


Call a Plumber

by austinscarlett



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Child Abuse (Implied), Drug Use (Implied), M/M, Omorashi, Shota, bro's thirtyish, john's about five, the title is a bad pun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austinscarlett/pseuds/austinscarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dad drops off his five-year-old son at the Striders' while he works, Bro teaches John something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call a Plumber

**Author's Note:**

> i do not condone underage sex outside of the fictional world; this fic is done to experiment with pov/tone, and is not meant to encourage any illegal behavior

 

"Bye, Daddy!" is what you say when your Dad drops you off at Bro's apartment. 

Your daddy gives you a kiss on your head, and his happy, tired, happy voice says that he loves you and that he's going to miss you at work. He asks you to draw him a picture and you swear you will, make sure to put his fedora and pipe and small smile in it. 

You chirp "I love you," one more time before he leaves. The door clicks and you turn and you see Bro and you see his apartment and you remember how much you love it all. You love the smell, the puppets, the hats, the mixers, the cheap smell of food and that earthy smell that your dad's tobacco nose can't pick up. You love Bro the most.  

He loves you, too. That's the first thing he tells you when you two are alone. (Dave's on a kindergarten field trip that your daddy wouldn't let you go on. He says your peanut allergy could act up, so you don't want to risk anything. Dave will tell you about it when he gets home.) The second is "We're gonna try something new today. You get to drink all the juice you want."  

At that, you smile a really big smile, so big that it even makes Bro smile a little. You look down at your feet, because you get nervous when Bro looks at you for too long. Still, you keep your smile bright and mumble, "Daddy only lets me have juice every other day." 

You feel Bro's fingers come to your chin, tip it up and Bro says, "I can't hear you if you're quiet like that." It's not mean at all. He's sometimes mean to Dave and that scares you, but Bro's always nice to you. His fingers are gentle like when he touches you and he's so patient and doesn't care if you cry after the white stuff comes out. 

Darting your blue eyes away for a second, you look back through your thickly framed glasses and repeat, "Daddy only lets me have juice every other day." 

That small smile that's not an all the way smile comes up on Bro's face when you say that. It's not like your daddy's smile, his smile's just not big. Bro's smile is only a smile on one side. His hand comes up to your ear and caresses it and he says "I guess we'll have to make this our little secret, then." 

You nod sheepishly in the way Bro likes, and he takes you up in his arms. You giggle, giggle, and he smiles and kisses you all over and he dumps you on the futon. 

Bouncing, you watch him get a couple of juice boxes, and come back to the futon. With grabby hands, you try to get one of the drinks, but Bro holds them back. He keeps holding them away, and you cry, "Bro, I want one! I want one!" 

He brushes your messy black hair out of your eyes and he says, "John, there's one more thing you need to know. When you need to go to the bathroom, you can't go, okay?" 

Hands growing steadier, you look at him quizzically. "Why can't I go, is your potty broken?" 

Chuckling that deep, low chuckle that makes you feel happy and smile for a reason you don't know (you think it's because you're nervous), Bro answers, "No, the toilet's fine. I just want you to hold it in. You have to promise you'll hold it in, or you won't get any juice." 

Not knowing what you were agreeing to, you nod your head rapidly, because you'll be getting juice. Your hands go grabby again and you start bouncing a bit more. "I want juice!" 

With a quiet sigh, Bro hands it over to you, and you take the straw off, and jam it in the little hole. Instantly, you're sitting down, looking at Bro, giggling, sucking at the plastic. It tastes kind of like grape, but also like another fruit that you don't care to ask about. 

Bro goes and turns the lights off, turns the T.V. on, takes the remote, and comes back from the couch. The show is some cooking one, and you watch, because Bro watches. 

In a few minutes, you've finished your first juice box, and Bro gives you another one. Juice box after juice box, you pass the time with cooking channels and Bro. He looks at you with smiles and ask if you like what they're making and you ask him if _he_ likes what they're making and if he says yes, you say yes, and if he says no, you say no. 

After a while, your tummy starts to hurt and it feels like you need to pee. You tell Bro, "I need to go."  

Bro shakes his head no, and says, "You promised that if I gave you juice, you wouldn't go."  

Clenching your juice box harder, you pout and say, "But I really need to _go_. I need to go in the potty." You're starting to feel desperate, even though it's only been an hour or two. That many juice boxes isn't a good thing. 

Bro's voice is a little husky, and he says, "Hold it in a little longer. I'll tell you when you can go." 

Your eyes go to the lump in his pants and he's touching it. You look at it because it always fascinates you, even though you've seen it a lot. When it comes out of his pants it's even more interesting, and a little scary. 

Very quietly, you say, "I'll try." 

It's dark and the only light was coming from the television and you sip a juice box slowly and it hurts, it really hurts. You're whining and Bro scoots you to his side, and your hands are going under your glasses so you don't cry. You're telling yourself not to cry, but you do and your knees come up to your chest, but it makes it hurt more. 

A tear slips from your eye and you near whisper, "My tummy hurts. It really, really hurts, Bro. I want it to stop." 

One of Bro's leather-skin hands comes to your head and tussles your hair, and he asks, "What did you say?" 

With a loud moan, you whine, "My tummy hurts! I wanna go now!" 

You kick your feet, and Bro's patient, so nice, and waiting for you. His lips are by your ear and he murmurs "One more juice box." 

With shaky hands, you get another juice box from the floor, and you put the straw into it with less will than before. Slowly, slowly, you sip. You should go fast and go now, but you draw it out because you feel like Bro wants you to. His hand's on your tummy and he's pressing on it and you want him to stop, but, instead, you cry.  

You cry because it hurts, _it hurts._

You finish the juice box, and he says, "You can go."

You try to get up, but he pushes on your belly, and you can't get up. Teary, teary eyes look at his dark glasses, and you beg a quiet, "Please."  

Bro hears you then. He shakes his head no for the second time today.  

You try to hold it in, you really, really do. Instead, you end up wetting yourself, and your clothes, and the futon, and part of the carpet. You wet your cheeks with tears, too. 

Your elbow accidentally touches the lump in Bro's jeans, and he tells you, "You're so good, John. Can you touch me?" 

Slowly, you nod. Even though you're wet, and warm, and feel bad, you do it. You get him out of his pants and, sometimes, he puts your bottom on the thing, and you go up and down, but this time you don't. All it is is big and there, and you touch it, and it jumps. 

You're scared, but Bro's there. He's there and pets your hair, and you're okay, you're okay. He tells you in that smooth voice of his to keep going, and you do. 

You touch it with your tiny tongue this time and your hand works and you keep doing this for a while and the white stuff comes. The white stuff goes on your face, on your shirt, and your lower half is cold. 

Bro's stroking your hair, and you're crying, and he holds you. He tells you how good you are, how much he loves you. 

You tell him you love him back. 


End file.
